Hidden Jewels

Chapter 2

It was a calm time for the kingdom: there were no wars or frictions to be concerned about; the people were well-fed, well-protected, and well-exposed. When autumn comes harvests are bountiful and even the nation's bordering nations benefited through the trades. When winter comes few rarely vanish in the lulls and peaks of the winter snowstorms. When spring comes children are seen frolicking in the farmland towns to the city streets and the academy hallways. Come summer, spring harvests are ushered in with multitudes of festivals. Autumn comes again and rough winter storms return.

To note, this year's winter was particularly fierce. While the storm peaks and lulls did not change much from past patterns, the temperatures dropped much more sharply. Therefore, Queen Adalheida changed her usual sewing place in her drawing room from the tea table to the window by the roaring fireplace. Flushed with well-aging youth, the beautiful queen passed her leisure hours with her hair down and a heavy blanket over her lap. Fingers swiftly weaved the string through familiar steps within the darkest ebony embroidery frame and the outline of a poetic line gradually came into view.

As she sewed, her thoughts drifted and returned to the place she had been avoiding. This piece was for her husband. It was both a work of solace for her and a symbol of assurance and love to her husband, King Maximilian. While the nation looked as calm as an undisturbed lake, the reality was that the Royal Court was never still. Stillness was bane. Throughout their happy marriage there was little to point out as a flaw besides the lack of an heir.

It wasn't like the pair was insensitive to the glances between the younger members of the court and the mumbles beneath worried frowns on the older few. The King and Queen themselves were no less passionate than the next loving nobles in court and they loved each other dearly. Both had long since decided on the boy and girl names of their child- children if more than one appeared. If anything, they were the most eager for children of their own, and therefore the most worried. It needn't be said that the Queen was the most worried out of the Court.

Sighing, fingers stilled and the Queen's gaze fell back on the tall lattice window. A light flurry continued to fall down through the winter afternoon creating a white fantasy beyond the warm room. The vision that hypnotized the Queen and when she returned from the round of distraction, the needle missed its mark and pricked her finger.

Sharply inhaling, Queen Adalheida jerked her finger back and three bright red drops of blood stained her snow white cloth. She soothed the ache by sucking on the oozing point and her frown paused with an epiphany. For before her, she was observed the contrasting brightness of her blood scattered about the quote's pale outline; the splash of color starkly contrasting the darkness of the wood frame beautifully.

Sighing, she smiled to herself. Oh, that I would have a child as beautiful: with skin white as snow, lips and flush as red as blood, and hair as black as this embroidery frame.

It was a beautiful image, but only that: a dream. So the Queen put fantasies aside and smiled, more content that she had been in a while due to the inspiring vision, and worked on to include the blood stains into her work. The three flowers blossomed into three lush red roses crowning a poem of eternal love.

One year later, joyful news swept the nation: The Queen was expectant with child. The Court was lively and the King was beaming with pride, while the Queen, at the center of it all, was eagerly preparing all needs required of caring for the future prince or princess. Nine months down the line, another year passed and the child was born in the late summer. However, while a healthy princess was born, the queen quickly took a turn for the worse and passed away a few days later.

The kingdom mourned the loss of the wise and graceful queen, and for days, black fabric covered every person of gentry and peasantry. The funeral service in the castle was brief but overwhelming as tears were shed and the open glass casket before the priest displayed the inevitable. During the funeral procession to the private royal cemetery behind the castle, King Maximilian closely held his sleeping daughter in silence. The image was heartbreaking. It had been decided while the Queen was still alive that their daughter would be called Adila, for she was pale and rosy cheeked with dark hair richer than her mother's.